


About Sansa

by ann_and_white_elephant



Series: The Mother of Monarchs [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Catelyn Lives, F/M, Gen, Moral Ambiguity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-20 21:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20682152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann_and_white_elephant/pseuds/ann_and_white_elephant
Summary: The time of Sansa’s marriage to Harrold Harding is approaching, but preparing for the wedding is not all Catelyn has to do. First, she needs her former childhood companion to pay the price for betrayal. (Works as a stand-alone story).Five children, kings and queens. And one who was no son of hers. Five + one AUs series.





	About Sansa

**Author's Note:**

> Though I honestly believe no archive warnings apply, there is some not so light stuff in this one.

_Her hair has gotten darker_, Catelyn thought as she led a brush along Sansa’s shining tresses. So much had changed in the time between their farewell and reunion. The Seven Kingdoms were plagued by wars, kings rose and fell, their own loved ones perished. Neither Cat nor Sansa were the same as they have been at Winterfell. And yet Cat was unsettled by this one trivial thing. Sansa’s hair had been dyed brown and the dye still did not entirely disappear, but now, moon turns later, it was clear that the girl’s hair truly darkened.

“Do you think Harry would like the dress, mother? Our wedding date is to be announced today!” Sansa spoke excitedly, obvious to her mother’s thoughts. Catelyn could see her own reflection in the looking glass, forlorn and pained. The same face she wore every day since Ned’s death. She made herself smile for Sansa’s sake.

“Of course he will, sweet one.” _Though not half as much as your pretty face and your claim._ Cat wondered which one young Harrold now called Arryn valued more. At four and ten Sansa was fair indeed, Cat though with a pride. Fairer than any highborn maid in the Vale, fairer than Cat have been, fairer than even the Tyrell girl in King’s Landing. But could even that triumph that she was the queen in her own right? Robb had named Jon Snow his heir in his folly and forbidden Sansa from her claim, but with Ned’s bastard dead and Sansa’s first marriage proven unconsumed, it was easy to make lords support Catelyn’s daughter. More so with the betrothal to the Lord of Vale. Some northmen might have nursing grievances that Sansa was to be married to an outsider, but all had understood that only Vale could bring them fresh army and food to see them through winter. It all fit together so nicely, thank to Petyr Baelish and Robert Aaryn’s death. Not for the first time Catelyn had to confess to herself that she could not find the pity for her deceased nephew. The boy had been a sickly, weak child and winter was coming. He was never meant to live long. It was a mercy though, that Cat’s sister Lysa perished first. Catelyn knew all too well how much it hurt to see your own children die.

She put the thoughts aside. Her daughter lived and she would do anything for her. _Even her hair_. A true smile threatened to make it to Cat’s lips. She always liked to brush Sansa’s hair and her daughter was forever eager to let her. As a little girl, where any other child would be restless, Sansa always sat with endless patience. Now, years later, it became a ritual. A sacred time between mother and daughter. Sansa could have any maid to help her, but it was an unspoken rule since their reunion that it was only Catelyn who brushed and braided her hair. Once Cat was done, she took the crown from the table and fit it at Sansa’s head.

Looking at it Sansa sighed. “It’s such a bothersome thing.”

“It looks, as it has to.” _It looks like Robb’s crown._ That one lied buried at the bottom of an oaken chest. Some dark and lonely nights Cat took it out with shaking hands. Sansa’s crown was smaller, made to fit her head, but of the same design hammered from iron and bronze to depict nine swords.

“I know, mother, yet it doesn’t fit any gown.” Sansa was right in that of course. Now that her true identity had been revealed Sansa dressed according to her station. Yet the only the garbs her crown had been truly made to fit were ring mail, plain linen and furs. It was such a small thing but finding a solution proved to be irksome. In the end, while Sansa wore rich dresses, she had to avoid any brighter color and even her jewelry was mostly made of bronze instead of silver and gold. Even so, the crown always stood up little awkward.

“At least I know which ladies favor me,” Sansa said after a moment thoughtful. “Myranda promised not to wear anything but black. And Petyr tells me that Yohn Royce had the old family bronze jewels repaired and paid for a new necklace of copper and jade for his youngest daughter.”

Catelyn did not answer. Sansa had been always interested in fashion, but Cat was coming to understand that instead of songs and stories her daughter now preferred politics and games played in her little court. _Did King’s Landing do that to her?_ Cat wondered. She did not dare to ask. Ever since their reunion she felt that Sansa was not open with her about everything. And the more she demanded to know, the more distant Sansa become. It had been killing Cat, losing her last child to her own actions. In the end she surrendered and accepted the border where her daughter had set it.

“Is everyone coming?” Catelyn asked.

“All of the Northmen and Riverlands lords who are in the Vale and all the Vale lords aside of the old lord Hunter. Supposedly he caught chill.” Cat had not known the last part, but she suspected where the tidings came from. She had noticed that it was not only jewels and dresses which Petyr Baelish had been giving her daughter. As if the gods could hear her thoughts her father’s former ward were announced at the door of Sansa’s chamber.

He entered with a half-smile and insolent confidence. Gates of the Moon were the seat of Lord Nestor Royce, but it was Petyr who truly ruled here. Sansa turned to see him, and Catelyn too watched him carefully.

“You look more beautiful every day. What is more, you look like a true queen, Sansa. Harrold will bathe in envy tonight.” He told the girl with an all-knowing glint in the eye. _It’s only a courtesy, _Cat told herself. Petyr had claimed he saw Sansa as a daughter he never had, but there was something odd about them. _King’s Landing changes people_, Cat found herself repeating, but the more time she spent with Petyr, the more memories awoke in her mind. Of a little boy more clever than wise, daring and never afraid to reach for anything, no matter how high it seemed.

“Thank you, my lord,” Sansa answered with a blush. Cat’s daughter had been always eager to please her parents. The girl had done her best to charm Prince Joffrey and now she watched young Harry like a hawk, not missing a thing and pleased with his approval. He was not the man whose appreciation she carved the most, however. Catelyn was not blind to that.

“All will go well tonight, you’ll see.” Petyr assured her. “Still, there is time to have one last look at the hall. I’ve done my best, but I’m just a man. A woman’s eye might be needed.”

“I will do so. Mother, my Lord, with your leave.” Sansa stood up graciously, her grey silks rustling. At the door she turned, almost as if she has forgotten something, but in the end she just gave an unreadable look and turned away silently. Cat watched her daughter go, the gown flowing around her, her hair shining with copper and her crown resting surely on her head. For all the trouble with its looks Sansa wore it more easily than Robb. Crowns were made to give power, not freedom, but restrains were what women were born and bred with.

“I hope you won’t mind me saying so, Cat, but tonight you will be the second most beautiful woman in the hall.”

“Why should I?” _I doubt, it’s even true_. Her maid might not find grey hair on her more often than once in a fortnight and her figure might not have turned as stout as some women’s, but Catelyn could hardly rival young maidens. “What mother would feel jealous of her own child?”

Petyr only chuckled at that. “Oh, I could tell you a tale or two, or even more of them. But why spoil such a joyful day with dread tales? We should be thinking about more pleasant things.” Cat knew very well that he did not mean just Sansa’s betrothal. It was his way of bringing up his marriage proposal. It had been long enough since Lysa’s death, longer still since King’s Landing had claimed Ned’s life. Petyr had repeated how much sense it made, for her safety and Sansa’s, he tempted her with dreams of more children, with promises of vengeance even with trifles like gowns and jewels. Still, her answer remained the same.

“I have to see Sansa’s marriage go thought,” she answered carefully. “Now it’s not the time for my own engagement.”

Petyr looked at her, smile still on his lips. “And when will the time come, Catelyn? The same day endless summer comes, cows grow wings and Cersei Lannister learns humility? Now that would be a day to see.” Petyr grinned.

“I’m sorry Petyr, you did so much for us. I don’t want to be ungrateful, but I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of another marriage.” And that was true for more reasons than she could count.

Petyr sighed, but the gesture seemed somehow flat. “Cat, I have done it everything without a thought of reward, but think what would become of you, if any ill befallen Harry before Sansa could give him an heir?”

“Sansa would be still the queen of the North and Riverlands in her own right.”

Petyr looked at her with benevolent face. “She would be a precious maiden no doubt, but with Riverlands and North ravaged by traitors, invaders and usurpers and no army of her own, she would be no more than a traitor’s child. I am doing all I can to secure your future, your and Sansa’s both, but there are risks. Harrold is young and fickle. You know the best that young men can be misled from their promise by a pretty face. Or he can injure himself in a tourney, and the septa…” he went quiet in the middle of the sentence and looked for a moment contrite, as if he said too much.

“What septa?”

“It’s nothing, I spoke too much.”

Catelyn wondered if he remembered that he used to gaggle like this with all his secrets as a child. _How can he do it now? _ “Petyr, don’t play with me, tell me!”

“Septa Rutica.” The name sounded familiar, but Catelyn had to think for a moment, before she remembered. They met only once. She was the septa who examined Sansa to prove her first marriage invalid.

“Has anything happened to her?” _That could cause trouble, the woman’s word might still be needed. _

Petyr laughed. “Unfortunately, not. But I don’t know how long my gold will keep her telling what we wish. The ones supposed to live in modesty always prove to be the greediest. I can’t remember ever meeting a money monger or a sellswords pricing himself so high. What she would even do with all those dragons? Buy silken undergarments under her roughspun robes?”

Maybe once Catelyn would have been shocked that a septa could threaten someone for gold, but since that time life had given her too many harsh lessons. “Surely, should she prove false, someone else may speak for Sansa.”

Petyr put a hand on her arm, all humor leaving his voice. “Catelyn, my dear, we need her to be false. Sansa pleaded with me not to tell you, but she is just a girl afraid that her mother might stop loving her for something which was not her fault. Septa Rutica lied about Sansa’s maidenhead, as I knew she would. As Sansa confided to me would be needed.”

When the words sunk in, it was as if someone struck her with a mailed fist. “Gods be good, my sweet Sansa…” _No wonder she seems so secretive._ Catelyn had asked, of course she had asked and though Sansa gave her only rough account of what happened to her since Eddard’s death, Cat thought that she simply did not wish to return to unpleasant memories. Cat could not have even imagined that her daughter would put up a brave front and fool her own mother, when it came to her unfortunate marriage to the Imp.

Catelyn shied her gaze from Petyr’s searching eyes, she felt all too valuable at the moment, but his hand remained at her arm moving up and dawn in smoothing motion.

Whichever way the talk would have continued, the words were never spoken. In that moment a hurried knocking echoed, and Sansa entered with unusual haste, her cheeks a little flushed. “Mother, have you seen my earring? I must have dropped it and I am walking around with just one like a fool.”

Catelyn could only gape at her, unable to form a word after what she had just learned. As always Petyr was quick to react. He looked around the chamber and then shook his head. “There is nothing here, send the maid to where you were. And if not, well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but I had bought another pair during my visit in Gulltown. I think they would fit well.”

Sansa beamed at him. Catelyn searched in her daughter’s face for a sign of the truth she had learned. _I will have to talk to her, but not tonight, tonight she has the right to be happy thinking about the future and the talk would no doubt upset her. _Not wishing to endure Petyr’s knowing gaze Catelyn pardoned herself and left the chamber shortly after her daughter.

***

For Catelyn the whole feast was cloaked in a haze. She avoided company, too lost in her own thoughts to engage in a conversation. Later, the only thing she could recall was looking at Sansa and wondering about the dreadful secrets the girl was hiding. I took long hard hours for that evening to finish. Finally, tiredness and ale claimed the last guest and they dispersed to their chambers. Yet, even peaceful quiet of late night found Catelyn awake wandering corridors of the castle, forbidden of rest as if she was a wraith.

“Lady Catelyn,” a man’s voice called after her. She turned to see maester Colemon. The young maester had descended from the Eyrie with the rest of its former occupants to endure the winter at the Gates. “Are you troubled with lack of sleep? I can be of help with that, there are some potions.” He offered nervously.

_I am sure there are such, but less sure I want to try anything mixed by a man who lost two lords to a sickness in less than three years_, she thought unkindly. Still, she agreed to follow the man to his cell. It was the easiest way to get rid of him. Catelyn thanked the man for a small bottle, but once she was in her own room, she threw into a chest unused. Weary, she sat herself on her narrow bed. The shutters on the windows were hiding the world outside, whatever the night was dark or lit by the moon and stars. The room was heated by a heart fed from the other side of the wall and once the candle died out, the blackness became unpierceable. Catelyn lit a candle and even the second and the third, but then she gave up. Darkness embraced her. She sat on her unused bed thinking of Sansa_. I must do more for her. Doing her hair and listening about Harrold and Vale lords is not enough. Gods, I have been blind__!_

There was no way to tell the time in that dark quiet chamber, but finally, weak light found its way beyond painted wood of the shutters. Catelyn hastily changed her dress and cloak and headed for the gardens to clear her head.

Gates of the Moon had been once a seat of kings, but not for long. Roland I, the fourth Arryn king, found them too unglamorous compared to the other great seats. The gardens seemed to agree with the sentiment. Not as ancients and brooding under the weight of time as godswood in Winterfell, not as beautiful as famous gardens of Highgarden, by far no so monstrously large as anything within Harrenhal’s walls. Yet ever since Petyr had bought her freedom from the Frey dungeon by guile and gold, they had become Catelyn’s favorite place. There was a spot where someone had once planted prunes and apple trees and those still grew there gnarled by winds. Among them laid a huge piece of grey rock fallen from the mountains. In the time Catelyn had arrived, last autumn flowers still bloomed there. They were gone now, but the bench by the rock remained.

Everything was covered by a thin sheet of wetness and last remnants of the night fog still clung to the ground. If the sky was clearer, sheet of snow covering the mountains would be visible. It was moving lower with each passing day. Catelyn still seated herself braving the coldness and damp of the morning. Her skirts had barely the time to fell around her when the usually abandoned place was intruded by a newcomer. It was Sansa.

The girl’s cloak was a pea-green velvet and her skirts under it the color of ripe peaches. The crown was missing, and locks of Sansa’s long auburn hair were escaping from under her hood.

“Mother, what are you doing here so early and sitting on the damp wood. Has something happened?” At her words a memory came unbidden to Cat. Old Nan smiling her tootles smile when Ned tried to send her rest. _When young start telling you what you should do not to catch a chill, instead of you telling them, that is the day you are old_, the ancient woman had laughed. _What became of her?_ Cat wondered. Likely it was better not to know.

“Oh, nothing of such, sweet one. I was just restless,” she told her daughter. Still, Cat stood up smoothing her damp skirts and walked to Sansa. The girl studied her with searching eye_. I didn’t expect this talk so soon, but there might be no better time_. Cat put her ungloved hand at Sansa’s arm. “I must ask you something. Were you honest with me about what happened in your marriage to Tyrion Lannister?”

Confusion filled Sansa’s blue eyes. All but one of Cat’s children got their eyes from her. They had most the same color, but not entirely. Robb’s had been just slightly darker, Bran’s in some light appeared almost blue-green, Rickon had brownish rings around his pupils. Sansa’s eyes were lighter. Cat always thought them the gentlest. _She doesn’t understand, I must be plainer_. Catelyn forced the words out of her. “You told me he never bedded you. Were you honest with me? No matter what, I won’t think less of you, but you must be truthful now. Our future depends on it greatly.”

Her daughter, lost for words, turned her face down with upset and shame. In that moment Catelyn knew that whatever hopes she had nursed in distant corners of her heart had been false. Petyr had not lied to her. _The Lannisters better hope the Stranger takes them before we meet again_, Cat thought darkly as she took Sansa in tight embrace. When the girl reclaimed her voice, her words could not have shocked Catelyn more.

“I was with a man, but it was not Lord Tyrion,” Sansa whispered face turned down.

_Who?_ Catelyn screamed silently. _Who it was? Joffrey? Some knight in the chaos of the siege? That foolish singer Lysa had kept?_

“It was Lord Baelish.” The girl finished so quietly that her voice was almost swallowed by a soft creaking of branches. “I didn’t want to tell you. He is your friend and he has done so much for us.”

Catelyn though she suddenly knew how it felt to be drowning knowing that surface and life are too far away. She had foolishly thought that life had taught her everything. As so many times before, she was proven wrong. Cat had known Petyr all her life. He was her last friend, the man she owned everything that remained to her. At the first moment she wanted to deny her daughter’s words. She would have for everyone but Sansa, but Sansa was her child. And then the doubts and uneasy thoughts bloomed in her mind fully as myriads of little moments resurfaced in her memory. The looks Petyr gave Sansa, Petyr’s lies, Petyr’s smiles as mocking as they were friendly.

Bitter taste of betrayal filled her mouth. “I believe you. I would never betray your trust. Lord Baelish had no right, no matter what he did for us.” Catelyn tried to keep the harshness of her voice, it was not what her daughter needed to hear.

“It happened at the night before Aunt Lysa arrived to the Fingers.” Sansa continued more composed than Cat would had thought possible. _She is stronger than she knows_. “Lord Baelish had a lot of wine and he was filling my cup too. It was so sweet. Before I knew what was happening there were no servants in the room and he was kissing me, unlacing my gown and talking about how he had no wish to wed Aunt Lysa. It happened only that one night. In the morning he brought me tea and ordered never to talk about it again, not even among the two of us.”

_Lysa, Sansa, me. All the Tully women._ Suddenly Cat wondered if it had ever been about love for Petyr, or about pride. As a little boy he had been told to be unworthy of Tully women and he lived his live to prove the world wrong. Catelyn was glad for Sansa warming her with her embrace, she felt very cold. _Had Petyr achieved all he wished for_? Cat wondered fleetingly, but she knew the answer. She was the last one to reject him. _Now and then._ Would it end, if she agreed with the marriage? _No, he is not done with Sansa either. This marriage to Harrold is only a ruse to get control of the Vale. Once Sansa births an heir, he won’t need Harry anymore._ Cat would not let that happen, not when Sansa seemed so pleased with young Harrold despite all his many faults.

To prove her right, Sansa slipped from her arms and composed herself. “I don’t want to talk about it more. Things are finally looking good.” Cat’s daughter smiled bravely. “This is why I wanted to talk to you.” Sansa unbuttoned her hood to show her a necklace Cat had not seen before. It was a well-made piece even if wrought only of bronze. The pattern at the border was skillfully shaped in the form of leaves and in the center howled a wolf’s head with eyes of bright jade. “This is what Harrold gave me yesterday. It’s not even a moon turn till our wedding now.” Sansa continued to chat happily, and Catelyn tried to share her joy keeping her doubts and fears for herself.

***

“Lady Catelyn.” This time she recognized voice of maester Colemon at once. “We meet again.”

“And again at the same occurrence.” Might be at the same hour, even the hall was the same. “Are you following my steps, maester?” _Could he be Petyr’s spy? No, that doesn’t seem to fit. This man is afraid of his own shadow._

The young maester smiled nervously. “Of course not, my lady. Though it occurred to me that we might meet again. Those who fight sleepless nights often have to give more than one battle. Was the potion I gave you yesterday of any help?”

“A little,” she lied.

He sighed. “I feared so. It’s always wise to start with weaker substance, but I might have made it too thin. Come with me. I might provide you better help this time.” The refusal was already on her tongue, no potions were going to help her, but something stopped her. Something she did not dare to voice to herself even when she returned to the seclusion of her bedchamber. In her hand, a little bottle was filled with dark liquid. Catelyn added it to the older one. A seed of a thought was forming.

In the days following Sansa’s revelation Catelyn could not look at Petyr the same way. Often, she had to turn away, to hide her disgust. More than once when he watched Sansa Cat had to slide her nails painfully to her own palms to keep from attacking him as a wild beast protecting her cub. But she was no wolf, no matter her late husband’s sigil. She was both blessed and cursed with consciousness of what would follow if she acted rashly. Petyr held absolute power over their lives, she saw that now. Even with Sansa’s marriage quickly approaching, he would be able to destroy it just as easily as he settled it. Should anything happen to Catelyn, Sansa would remain friendless and without protection. What few lords reminded loyal to their cause would be no match for a clever and ambitious man like Littlefinger.

Petyr Baelish himself seemed thankfully unaware of wild storm raging inside Catelyn’s head. His marriage proposal to her continued to reappear, though now she was aware that it was spiced with threats. Catelyn still could not find it in herself to agree. Until one day Petyr came with even more daring offer.

The wind was swirling the last of falling leaves in the air, still they found themselves alone at the balcony watching Sansa and Harold. The young couple was talking and laughing.

“They look so happy.” Petyr commented with an unsettling smile.

“Yes.” Catelyn agreed wondering if he had already planned how this happiness would end. Petyr just turned to her smile firmly on his face. He was dressed well and not truly uncomely but age did not add much to his height. She stood few inches taller than him. In one moment, without her allowance, Petyr took her hand and she had to force herself not to flinch.

“We can be happy too.” Catelyn though he would whisper it as a secret they shared in their youth, but the wind was too strong for that. _I was happy once with Ned and children, did you lit the fire which turned my happiness to ashes? _She wondered, but Petyr was not done with his bold words. “Marriage might seem as too great pledge, but there are simpler arrangements to keep loneliness at bay.”

In thousands of other lives Catelyn would have refused his proposal with a shocked outrage, but in this one, it only felt as if a seed of her plan sprout a first root.

“An arrangement which could shatter my good name? Should that happen I won’t be the only one to suffer. Sansa might lose more than me,” Catelyn retorted, carefully choosing her words.

Petyr Baelish waved his hand dismissively. “King Tommen is a bastard fathered by a man who is the queen’s own brother and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to that. Everyone knows. Yet, half of his lords look the other way and the second half doesn’t care at all. But I guess that you wouldn’t truly be a daughter of Riverrun if you didn’t keep the decorum even when the world is falling apart. If you wish to keep anything a secret, there is no better man for that than me. I did run many private establishments in King’s Landing for years. In two days, Sansa’s seamstress and Lothor Brune should ride to Gulltown for the last supplies for the wedding. You should accompany them. You can take a bed in an inn near Gulltown I know, and own. You will be the only guest there.” He punctuated his speech with a wink. “But don’t worry it’s a reputable place, kept apart of my other businesses. Enjoy spending my gold as much as you wish in a meantime. It’s no small thing to be a mother planning her daughter’s wedding and I wouldn’t wish for a maiden as fair Sansa to appear haggard at her wedding. Five days to your stay, I should ride for Runestone. No one would suspect where I went if I sneak to the inn on my return.”

“That sounds well thought,” she answered weakly, not fully trusting her own voice.

Petyr just smiled pleased with himself.

_Done_, Catelyn thought grimly.

***

Sansa was still half asleep when they gave each other farewell at dawn. Slight blush colored the girl’s cheeks and there was even a strand of hair escaping her braid. “Keep yourself safe,” she told Catelyn hugging her tightly.

“I will, do the same.” Cat bid her as if that was power, they truly held. Without sharing her forlorn thoughts, Catelyn Tully entered the carriage. Soon they were moving. Cat kept looking back until Sansa disappeared out of sight.

“My lady seems worried about her daughter,” spoke the seamstress, the only company in the carriage. She was a woman past fifty with a common face. Catelyn let herself engage in the talk only for as long as she considered proper not to appear rude. Quickly the men and horses outside became the only noises. Compared to struggles Cat had faced on her ascent to the Eyrie almost three years before, her ride to Gulltown appeared almost idyllic. They were troubled neither by mountain clans, nor by weather and these were the lands untouched by war. Most of the autumn crops had been already harvested and even trees in orchards lost their leaves, but Cat glimpsed village women with baskets filled with sloes and rose hips.

The walls of Gulltown were smaller than Winterfell’s walls had been, but the city beyond them was more lively than anything North could boast. While in White Harbor the streets were straight and made of white-washed stone Gulltown bathed in colors. Buildings large and small, rich and poor, both made of stone and timber were painted in different colors. The streets were a jumble of great yards, straight roads and crooked alleys so narrow that a fat man should fear getting stuck in one of them. And every place was filled with people, horses, dogs and other beasts most towns could boast.

Catelyn’s retinue arrived early, with few hours of light still ahead of them. Gradually most of the men and the seamstress left to see to their own business. Only ten of Petyr’s men at arms accompanied her carriage as it left the city again through a different gate. The road led to the part of the coast inaccessible by any other means. Not much was built there. After barely half an hour of slow ride they came to the inn. It had only two stories of modest grey stone. A wooden stable and barracks stood in some distance. The building looked well-tended, but Catelyn could not help but think it queerly placed for an inn. Most inns outside of cities stood beside busy roads. There was a road here, but this was clearly its end. The innkeeper confirmed Cat’s thought. “This used to be a sheep farm, but the sheep kept falling from the cliffs,” a tall freckled woman told her simply.

As Petyr promised, there was no one else aside of the innkeep.

Following days were filled with markets and merchants. Each morning they rode to Gulltown, each evening they rode back. Cat had not spent years planning her daughter’s wedding as some women were wont to do. Still, she had thought about it in those moments when little Sansa came to her bedchamber with bright ribbons in her hair claiming she was Jonquil dressed to meet her Florian. or when she smiled a shy toothless smile in Ned’s arms asking if her husband will be a handsome prince or a peerless brave knight. Catelyn had not ever though how would Sansa’s dress look or how would be her hair done, instead she had imagined a wedding in peaceful times not stained by death, sorrow and disappointment. Not as hers and Lysa’s weddings had been. _Yet here I am at the behest of the man who might have helped to kill my husband and betrayed and hurt Sansa, spending his gold and making preparations for a marriage he planned just to destroy it. _And in was not even all of it, but Catelyn did not wish to ponder upon it much. If there was one thing, she believed. it was that Sansa’s marriage would be good. It had to be.

On the third day, the rain came. Catelyn’s buying was done by large and she found herself disheartened by the weather. She was cold and the hem of her skirts kept getting wet no matter her efforts, but most of all it brought up the memories of the rainy days at her last ride to the Twins. Yet, there was little to be done in the inn, so she stayed in the town. Instead of another merchant’s shop she headed to the town’s sept. The richly decorated building was much more crowded that she had expected. Only at the altar of the Stranger no one prayed, but even there burned no less than seven candles. In the small sept in Winterfell Cat had been mostly the sole visitor, she had forgotten how it felt to share a temple with others. Now Catelyn kept thinking about the people around, unable to find her words for the gods. Or maybe just unable to face them. She left the sept just as restless as she had entered it. With disquiet growing inside her she tried to find some distraction and remembered people in the town Petyr recommended her to visit. Of three choices she decided for Lyonel Corbray and his young wife. They were staying in the town in one of the many houses which belonged to the bride’s father.

Lord Corbray proved to be a dull man few years older than Catelyn and his new wife was barely two years Sansa’s senior. As soon as the tidings and gossip were exchanged, the lord excused himself from the women’s company. Catelyn was left alone with the girl. Teora, or Lady Teora as she was addressed now, had a finer manner than Catelyn would have expected from a merchant’s daughter, but they did not have much in common. Soon the only topic become the girl’s joy of the child she was expecting. Catelyn listened with a kind smile. _Is Sansa looking forward to the children she soon might bear at least half as much_? Catelyn did not share much of her own mind. She was not sure if it would be Teora herself or one of her serving maids, but she was certain Petyr had an ear in the room. The more Cat thought about it, the surer she was that nothing her childhood companion offered came without a price. Still, the visit served its only purpose and finally the time came to leave the town and return to the inn. The rain had stopped but the soft haze covering the country changed by the end of their journey to solid fog. Upon their arrival the inkeep warned Catelyn not to wander outside in such an ungodly weather. Apparently, the sheep were not the only creatures which kept falling from the cliffs, when the fogs were about. Catelyn who had got no such adventurous intentions just thanked the woman and asked for a hot bath.

Lying in the cooling water Catelyn tried to steel herself for what was about to happen on the morrow. When was a girl, there were handsome knights and squires who made her blush, but Cat never encouraged them. She knew she was promised to the heir of the North. She had been determined to do her duty and never found it as great sacrifice as some women did. She met her betrothed only years after the deal had been already settled between their fathers and was half in love with Brandon within the first day. When the Stark heir died before they could wed and his brother proved to be his own solemn man rather than Brandon’s younger copy, for the first time in her life Cat felt the weight of woman’s lot. But the war had raged then, and her youth ended somewhere during that time. Her marriage to Ned came to be much happier than her younger self would have expected. _And in those happy times it never occurred to me that I might even need to think what would come after_. If ever a thought half formed in her mind that she might one day become a widow, she took it for granted that she would spend the rest of her days helping her children and doting on her grandchildren. There were never thoughts about another marriage. Catelyn had been sure she would be too old for that. _I am almost too old now and way too old for what is likely to happen. _She should feel uncertain, or disgusted or at least foolishly excited as Lysa might have been in her place, but if Cat felt anything at all, it was only tiredness.

The bath already stood abandoned and she started to dress when her eyes felt on a flagon of wine. She had bought in Gulltown. It was still early, but Catelyn was not sure when Petyr planned to come tomorrow. In her traveling chest she found carefully packed bottles with potion. In the middle of the dressing, the task felt almost as mundane as the rest of them. When she was done, Cat did not even ponder upon it and continued to do her laces. 

She was clothed but her hair was yet not done when someone knocked on the door. Catelyn almost asked who it was, but that would be stupid. The inkeep was the only one in the house, the men at arms were housed in the barracks beside the stables or guarding the road.

“Enter,” she allowed, but when the door opened, Catelyn saw the newcomer was not the inkeep after all. She almost screamed, sure that a Lannister cutthroat have found her or that the man was an outlaw. The person took few steps and pulled away a low-drawn grey hood revealing the smiling face of Petyr Baelish.

“I’m afraid I gave you rather a scare, are you well, my dear?” He inquired with a kind smile. She nodded, unwittingly calmed by the sight of his face. _Were it gods who made as so foolish, that we are more ready to welcome a fist which had hit us thousand times than an alien hand offering help? We paint the death as a stranger where it should wear the most familiar of faces, _Cat found himself musing, angry with her own feelings.

“You startled me, Petyr, that is all. I didn’t expect you so early.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” Petyr asked, but did not wait for her answer. “The weather was too good to let this chance pass. I bought a new horse and tied half a mile from here. Not even my own men saw me coming. See, I was discreet as I promised.” He gave her a smug look. It felt almost as if she was a girl again and he came to her boasting of his last clever mischief.

_Oh, I was sure you would find a way, I counted on that_, she thought darkly. “What about the inkeep?” Catelyn was certain Petyr had solved that hitch in his scheme already and he did not disappoint.

His grin widened. “The fool woman was always fond of wine, even if she can’t tell the difference between a dreamwine and Dornish red. I’ve sent her a flagon in the morning. A thank for her good services. She always opens the wine the same day she gets it and drink a cup three hours before going to bed. That one is more precise than bells of any sept I know. Never be predictable, Cat. That is the easiest weakness for anyone to explore. That one won’t be disturbing us way into the morrow evening.”

Catelyn gave him the same smile she used to all her life. A benevolent agreement to his actions, hoping it would hide her own thoughts. His words hit too close to her own secrets.

The food they shared in the inn’s empty hall was not unpleasant. Fresh fruits, fresh meat and wine were present in amounts they could never hope to consume. It seemed almost vulgar, when Catelyn knew that the rest of the kingdom must be starving. Was it not for what she knew now, Petyr even might have been a pleasant company. He kept her entertained with memories of their youth and gossip from all over the Westeros and beyond. _He has a gift for this_, she acknowledged to herself. _His words_ _are like magic, they have the power to change Lannisters from fearsome lions to squabbling kittens and turn Tyrells into harmless fools. _Catelyn had to wonder if she would have been charmed in truth, had Sansa not talked to her.

Even before their meal was done, Petyr took her hand and kissed her across the table. They had played at kissing as children, her Petyr and Lysa, but that had ended with Cat’s first engagement. Kissing was an intimacy Lady Stark of Winterfell would never allow with anyone, but her lord husband and it would happen nowhere but in their bedchamber. But like it or not, she was that woman no longer. She willed herself to find some pleasure in the touch of Petyr’s lips and his intruding tongue, hardly succeeding. Yet Petyr did not seem to notice. If the man had one weakness, it was never doubting his own victories.

The kiss was just the beginning as he pushed his chair to her, and his hand moved to her waist. Cat looked around startled, expecting someone watching them, but of course, they were alone. Petyr looked at her curious. 

“Catelyn, you are shyer than most maids,” he told her in a breathy voice. Her heart started to beat quicker at the words. 

“I just still expect my lord father to walk upon us. The dining hall in Riverrun was never this empty,” she answered feebly. “Winterfell used to be more crowded still.”

“My sweet Cat, would that we were still those children, our lives would be different. I would never allow you to be dragged to that cold forgotten corner of the kingdom.” His hand moved up from her waist, his thumb brushed her breast – a soft touch she almost could not feel through her bodice and he was kissing her again. It was only when his other hand started nimbly undo the laces on her back that it hit her.

_This is much like Sansa described the evening he dishonored her._ _The hall, the food, the wine, him… _Something in Cat screamed suddenly and she almost jumped away. Not wanting to alert him again, she acted quickly. Steeling her resolve, her hand touched his groin and she fondled his hardening manhood feeling it stiffen even more._ Way to go, Lady Stark, _she though disgusted with herself.

At least the action had the desired effect. Petyr squealed her name. “Cat, I could teach you things about chairs and tables the honorable Lord Eddard never dreamed about, but I want to be gentle tonight.” He said no more. Without letting of her hand even for a moment, he led her to her own bedchamber.

It was strange, but compared to kissing him, their coupling seemed barely of any importance. Catelyn endured it indifferent, no more responsive than she had to be. Afterwards, she stood from the bed and poured herself a cup of water. Even in the light of candles and turned halfway away from him, she could feel his eyes on her. She wondered if he was judging her body with the eyes of monger rather a lover’s gentler look. _The second, more like_. No one could run brothels for years and not gain a practical approach to woman’s flesh. _How do I fare Petyr? How much would I earn you, were I one of your girls? Would I be worth of keeping, or would you sell me to a man in the docks to entertain sailors too long at sea? _Her breasts were still firm for a woman her age though they sagged a bit. Her waist was slim, even if not as firm as when she was four and then. But she had given birth to five wonderful children and every one had left its mark on her. Catelyn almost traced the birthmarks at her belly. It was one of those little meaningless things she never shared even with Ned, but she knew with certainty which of her children gifted her with each._ How do _you_ see those scars, Petyr? As blemishes damaging your goods, I would wager. Do I have more of them that Lysa whom you called your lady wife? How do I compare to my sister? How do I compare to my daughter? _The last thought almost made Cat’s hand tremble, but it made what happened next easier.

The wine had waited in her room. She poured two cups. Catelyn barely wet her lips, but Petyr asked for a refill. In the end, he could not taste poison in his own wine any better than the inkeep. Barely a moment later, he was deep asleep. Still naked, Catelyn seated herself at the edge of the bed. She watched the man before her silently for some time before she pinched him painfully. He did not wake. _Did he drink enough to never wake again? _Catelyn did not know, she was not so knowledgeable in poisoning, but she did not intend to find out. Instead she took a pillow from the bed. It was a small one made of blue velvet richly embodied with flowers and birds, never suited for naught but decoration. _It will find its new purpose today_, she thought grimly.

Her hand was firm as she guided it to Petyr’s face. It seemed that killing grew easier quickly. She was thirty-six and it weren’t even three years since she had took a life for the first time. That had happened in the Vale too. She had never known the man, he had been a wildling, and she killed him in the rush of the battle to save her own life. The second man was innocent as anyone past adulthood could be, a lackwit. She killed him as a bargain, in a futile attempt to keep her last son alive. Petyr, though… her hand stopped as the pillow was just touching his chin.

They had been both children when he came to the Riverrun, him four years younger than Catelyn. Lysa was closer to him in age and she liked him from the start. But in that first meeting Catelyn’s sister had been too shy to do more than smile and look at the ground unable to form a simple word. It felt to Catelyn to take the boy’s hand and show him all the places of the castle. He played with her in the godswood the day she flowered, and she was the one to take him to a maester when he had broken his hand at the age of one and ten. _And later he grew up into the man who helped to kill my husband and hurt my daughter in the worst possible way. _It was harder than most of the things Catelyn had to do in her life, but she knew she would do it for the happiness of her last remaining child. Yet, as soon as blue velvet covered Petyr’s face and overwhelming wave of panic took hold of her.

_ I didn’t think this through! What will happen after he is dead? _Quickly Cat took the pillow away. Petyr did not even stir, but he was still breathing. _Is it too late already, will the potion kill him anyway? _She wanted to scream or maybe laugh. In all her planning, she had not solved, what she would do with his body. The inn had no garden, nor a single flower bed. There was only a thick carpet of drying grass all around them. She would never be able to bury him unnoticed. _And if they learn I killed him, will it ruin Sansa? _Catelyn would gladly trade her life for her daughter’s happiness, but that might not turn to be the bargain. _Gods, I made such a huge mistake again!_ _I should have waited for the time after the wedding._ But maybe it was too late now. Still she took her cloak and the rest of the poisoned wine and left the room. It was raining. The fogs had thinned a bit, but the insistent fall of drops drenched her as she stood at the entrance door and watched the rest of the wine disappear among grass stalks. Upon her return to the chamber Cat found that there was nothing to be done but wait.

Maybe it was her nerves, maybe it was what little of her own wine she had drunk, but Cat fell asleep quickly laying as far as possible from the man she might have already killed even if he was still breathing.

***

Come morning, it was Petyr himself who woke her. He was fully dressed and looked much better than she felt. There was a smile at his face and steaming cup in his hand. “It’s a beautiful morning, I didn’t mean to let you miss it.”

_It doesn’t look very bright._ Catelyn looked to the window. The shutters were open showing the outside world was soaking in thick fog. “The weather looks dreadful,” she commented dryly.

Petyr handed her the cup, still smiling. “Weather isn’t everything, my dear Cat. Besides, in Braavos they call days like this_ nice_.”

“And what do they call bright and sunny ones?”

“_Unnatural_.” Petyr grinned at his own jape.

Catelyn, who considered their talk of weather to be exhausted, just turned her attention to the cup in her hand. It was a tea. The smell of the herbs was not familiar, yet she figured out quickly what the cup must contain. _Moon tea, _the draught which kept children from being born and affairs from becoming known. Before she drunk, she looked at Petyr with questioning look.

“Of course, it’s moon tea,” he told her. He sat at the edge of the bed and put a hand on her arm. “I hope I didn’t make you distraught by presuming. You are no fool-headed young maiden, but a woman grown. You must know how much trouble your big belly would cause. All this secrecy would be for naught. If you wish for children we can try later, once we are wed.”

“I know. I just never thought I would have a use for it.” Catelyn did not try to hide her disgust.

The look in Petyr’s grey-green eyes was patronizing. “Forgive me, sometimes I forget how sadly moral and boring life you led for years. There is no harm in it, and I was told that even the taste is not that dreadful.”

_At least his last words were not a lie_, Catelyn acknowledged as she sipped the hot liquid. She was barely done when Petyr took the cup from her hands. “Enough of dark thoughts, the inkeep should be still sleeping so we have few hours to ourselves yet.” His words done everything but kept her demons away. When she had woken, it all fell like a thousand years ago, but it had been only hours. Hours since Petyr arrived, since they lay together, since Catelyn almost murdered him. Unbidden, her eyes traveled to the empty flagon still standing there at the carved three-legged stool. Her hand touched the blue pillow lying innocently at the side of her bed. _Has he noticed anything? _She worried. _Will I… will I be able to finish it when the right time comes? _

“If you find it yourself to face this weather, there is something I would wish to show you outside before my departure.” Petyr Baelish suggested.

“What could I possibly see at the day like this?” Cat demanded to know, but truth to be told, she did not wish to be closed inside this inn any longer. _Just one more place where memories will haunt me. _Petyr did not answer, insisting with a smile that it was a secret. Catelyn let herself to be persuaded.

Once dressed she joined Petyr in the dining hall. They quickly broke feast at bread and cheese, afterwards Petyr headed to kitchen. He gestured for Cat to follow him. There was a key hidden in the heart which opened a pantry. Petyr knelt at its floor and Catelyn almost asked him what he was doing but before she could Petyr was tilting the old wooden floor. There were hidden stairs underneath.

Out of instinct Catelyn took a quick step back. _Where is he taking me?_ _To my grave? Does he know what I did yesterday after all? _She looked around the kitchen and if there was a knife, she would have killed him then and there, but she noticed nothing of use, only baskets and large barrels. There was not even a poker by the heart.

As Petyr turned, there was a smile at his face. It felt quickly, when he noticed her panicked expression. “Catelyn, what is the matter, you were never afraid of such places as a child. We even sneaked into your father’s dungeons twice or trice.”

“Old Unthor let us in when there were no other occupants, because you brought him roasted piglet from the kitchens, but father found out in the end.” Catelyn remembered. Hoster Tully had been so wroth with the aged goaler that he almost sent the man to the Wall.

“See, this place is nothing to be afraid of.” Petyr smiled at her reassuringly.

_It’s not the place I fear, it’s you,_ she thought. _Had you shoved me this upon your arrival I would have killed you by now and hidden your body here. And now I’m afraid you know and do the same to me. _The words of her excuse were already formed in her mind, a dreadful tale about Winterfell crypts Petyr might wish to believe, but in the end, she kept quiet and cursed herself for a fool. She could not let him suspect anything was amiss. If Petyr wanted to kill her, he had thousand better chances, surely. Just today she took a cup of potion from him and drunk it trusting his word. If he wanted her dead, he would not risk the struggle with her, he would do it without her knowing clearly and cleverly, not as a common thug. She was a woman and he a man, but he had never been strong and she was fit. Catelyn smiled with an apology and let him lead her inside.

The tunnel was low and narrow, barely fit for one man. It had not been dug in soil but rather in solid rock. Petyr walked first holding an oil lamp and Cat followed feeling her uneasiness returning every time he slowed in his walk. Not a half a league later they came upon a solid iron door. Petyr nimbly produced a key from his sleeve and let them past the last restrain. On the other side was a cave as large as a hall in a smaller castle. Here the air smelled strongly of sea. What was more, the noise of waves crashing at the rock grew louder with each passing step. Yet they were only at the bottom of the cave. They had to ascend a fifty feet on the path along one of the walls and then even climb ten feet of iron steps to reach the narrow crooked entrance.

“Be careful once you are outside.” Petyr warned. Catelyn went after him with bend back climbing through sloping slits and holding her skirts in a futile attempt to keep them from being torn at rocks. When she stepped into light, Petyr put his hand on her arm to stop her from going further. Catelyn looked to her feet. There was a platform carved in the rock barely wider than the tunnel and beyond it only abyss and sea. At the day like this, with thick fog around, one might have easily walked to his death.

“We are more than two hundred feet above the water,” Petyr told her. “There is a steep path carved in the rock leading to the sea level, but no beach. At the bright day the view is breathtaking.”

“But not today,” Catelyn mused. They could see nothing but damp rocks few feet from them. The rest of the world was thick white fog. “Why did you take me here?”

Suddenly the look in his eyes turned hard and cutting. “I wanted to see your-” Cat did not learn what he wanted to say, or if he had truly meant to push her from that cliff. She acted first. He shouted something but his fall was too short to understand the words. She could have sworn that a silence followed, but she must have been wrong. Her act had no power to stop the sea against crashing at the coast. Be it as it may, the queer quiet lasted only a moment, before a horse neighed nearby. Catelyn had to wonder if it was the horse Petyr had tied somewhere upon this arrival, the poor abandoned beast her deed sentenced to slow death, but of course, she never learned the truth.

***

Sansa’s wedding was a grand affair. From the dais Catelyn watched the crowded great hall. With Lannisters battling - and losing to the enemies at their shores, none of Vale lords hesitated to openly support Sansa’s cause.

“To Queen Sansa and Lord Harrold!” Bronze Yohn Royce bid them to drink to the young couple. All the lords and ladies rose their cups. There had been dark gossip about the Lord of Runestone fortnight ago, when Petyr Baelish disappeared without a trace on his travel from Bronze Yohn’s castle. The enmity between the two men was no secret. But too many people saw Littlefinger leave the castle that day. When asked, every of Petyr’s own men gave a different story of why and when their lord left the reunite. And if one of them killed their master, no one in Vale seemed to care much. They have better news to discuss now. Most of all the marriage of their lord and his queen. Catelyn turned to the two youths. They looked beautiful together. Harrold just shy of his twentieth nameday stood straight and handsome with his sandy hair, easy smiles and dimples in his cheeks. He was clad in a doublet of Arryn blue and white and there was a sword at his hip. Sansa, though tall for a girl, stood half a head shorter than her new husband. Her gown had wide skirts with many layers of expensive sheer lace. Mostly it was white but there was grey silk at the sleeves and bodice. Stark colors might not seem as grand to some, but they gave Cat sense of comfort. Sansa wore barely any jewels. Only the necklace Harrold had given her nested above a décolletage Catelyn considered a tad too low and the crown sat at the girl’s head. The simple circlet was almost waning compared the crown the gods themselves gave to Sansa - a thick mane of shining auburn hair which now flew in soft ringlets at girl’s back.

As if the daughter could feel her mother watching, Sansa turned to her and smiled.

The feast continued with merriment and dancing. Something one might have started to consider almost unusual at the royal wedding. When the time for bedding came, the guests seemed timid compared to other wedding Catelyn had saw. Sansa and Harry left the hall still half dressed. Catelyn was the last one to complain. Afterwards, she went for her own bed early, yet she rose up late.

It was a pure chance which led her by Sansa’s chamber the next day. And a greater chance still, that it was in the moment when a maid was leaving it, holding a bundle of bedding. The sheet was folded but Catelyn still glimpsed a bit of the tell-tale bloody stain. Noticing the lady’s look the serving woman gave an awkward smile. Maybe she would have even told something past the greeting, but by then Sansa emerged from behind the maid dressed in a simple blue gown. If not for the look at her daughter’s face Cat might have took the bloody sheet for no more than a trick to fool Lord Harrold. Silent painful understanding passed between the mother and the daughter.

Sansa took Cat’s arm. “Will you accompany me to the gardens?” she asked minding the maid watching them.

They walked wordlessly to the place Catelyn knew well. She had been that garden many times since the morning after Sansa’s wedding announcement. Then there was drying grass and everything was brown and grey and beige. Now the country around them was covered in soft white dust. This was not the first time it had snowed here within the moon turn, but the thin white layer had yet to last more than a day or two.

“You lied to me,” Catelyn told her daughter when they stopped by the rock. _And for that lie I killed a man._

Sansa looked at her defiant. “I just didn’t want you to trust him. Not even a little. I was not wrong. That evening moon turn ago, I sent the guard away and listened at the door. I heard what he told you about septa Rutica. That was a lie.” The girl looked away and touched the rock with her gloved hand. A small speck of snow fallen from the stone.

“Oh, Sansa,” Catelyn sighed.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who made Petyr disappear.” Sansa turned back to her watching her intently. “I never thought you would. How-“

“Does it matter?” Catelyn interrupted her bitterly.

To her surprise Sansa took her in a tight embrace. “Never feel guilty for it, mother. Better men than Littlefinger are gone. Even if he didn’t hurt me that way, there were thousands other ills he had committed. Every one of them would forgive his death.”

**Author's Note:**

> The story was not beta-read. Feel free to point out any mistakes you spot.


End file.
